


I follow your trail (I cherish the things you don't)

by sandpapersnowman



Category: Jumper (2008)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing It Better, M/M, Scars, i promise past that tag everything is sunshine and rainbows and sweethearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: They've switched from Griffin's hideout in the desert to a refurbished bunker somewhere in a rainforest. They're safe.





	I follow your trail (I cherish the things you don't)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguiniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguiniel/gifts).



> [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6462187) is briefly referenced and a cute background thing but not required reading!
> 
> title from phoenix's [Goodbye Soliel](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/phoenix/goodbyesoleil.html). am I still allowed to gift this if its something I started legit almost two years ago and the giftee didnt know this fic was still on my radar oops

"David?"

He can barely hear his voice against the rain tonight, especially when he sounds so hesitant.

"What's up?"

The new place is larger, a lot less 'cave in the desert' and a lot more 'underground bunker somewhere in the rainforest', but something about that makes it more comfortable. An actual door helps with that, honestly, a thick metal hatch hidden in the brush. He was never a fan of Griffin's weird cubby hole only having a beige curtain keeping them from the rest of the world. He's not sure why they need a door at all, _considering_ , but Griffin insisted on it.

"Remember how I mentioned the scar I got in Prague?"

David grins to himself. It's always late at night when Griffin opens up, calling for David like a dare to himself and always hoping he’s asleep and won't hear. Maybe tonight’s the night he finally works up the nerve to show him the scar.

"Yeah, I remember."

Griffin's quiet enough that David worries he might be backing out on telling him. Again.

This isn't the first time Prague's gotten brought up.

"Griffin?"

"Yeah?" he answers, too quickly and like he didn't say anything in the first place.

"What about the scar from Prague, buddy?"

"It's bad," he finally says. But it's not all he wants to say, and David can hear it in his tone.

"Alright. It's bad."

He hears Griffin move on the other side of the small room. They each have their own bed, _real_ beds, and he thinks Griffin's turned over in his to face him. David does the same, and thinks he can just about make out Griffin looking at him in the dark.

"Like, it's gross," Griffin says.

"Okay."

"I hate it," Griffin admits.

"Hey," David has to cut in, interrupting the easy flow of Griffin putting off the inevitable and David letting him. "I'm sure it's fine, man."

Griffin scoffs in the darkness, self-deprecating and doubtful.

"You wouldn't say that if you saw it."

And there it is. Moment of truth. The one that's been put off for, like, the whole two months they've been living in this bunker.

He's thought about this a lot, honestly. How to ask about it, how to approach it. He takes a deep breath.

"Well, I haven't seen it." He almost says 'yet', hasn't seen it _yet_ , but that'd put some kind of pressure or duty on Griffin to show him. He understands hiding parts of yourself.

"Yeah," Griffin agrees.

"I'm sure I wouldn't think it was gross or anything, though," David adds, quick enough that they can drop it if tonight really isn't the night.

Griffin doesn't say anything for a very long time; long enough that David thinks maybe he's actually fallen asleep, and long enough that David shuts his eyes to do the same.

Then, he hears Griffin's blankets rustling, and opens his eyes to him sitting up on the edge of his bed.

"David?" he asks, hardly a whisper.

"I'm up," David whispers back.

Another long pause, then a big intake of breath, and the most bottled-up-terrified, shaky exhale that could possibly exist.

"Do you want to see it?"

_There_ it is.

"If you want to show me," he says, as softly as he can manage that Griffin will still hear him.

He thinks Griffin nods in the dark. He takes another shaky breath, then David sees his form stand.

He takes his time shuffling over, scared and nervous and, above all, _hesitant_. David doesn't think he's probably ever shown this scar to anyone else. The thought that he's the only one Griffin's trusted enough to show is... Nice. Humbling. A little nervewracking.

It still takes Griffin a minute of standing in front of him before he lifts his nightshirt up. Even then, it’s hesitant, and David thinks he can see the shadows as the fabric shudders with Griffin’s shaking.

The scar is shaped differently than he expected. He's not sure what he expected, actually, to tell the truth, but it was definitely something a little more traditional than... Than this.

It’s ragged all over, like it went without the medical attention it definitely needed for too long to heal properly. It’s like a sash around his chest, curving over his ribs and halfway under his shoulder. The way it distorts his side makes David think of a bandaid trying to curl around an elbow or knee, disrupting his shape just enough to call attention to it.

"They tied my arms above my head and, uh..." He swallows. "Cut me. Or filleted, I guess, y'know. Felt the knives scrape my ribs once or twice while I was conscious."

He takes another breath like he's going to continue, but David gently covers one of the hands holding his shirt up.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Griffin nods. Sniffles, then laughs at himself for sniffling.

"When it started healing too much, they'd cut it open again,” he continues, like he _needs_ to say it or he never will. He takes a breath that sounds more like a hiccup. "I think they wanted information on other jumpers, and when they realized I didn't have any, they just… Kept going.”

David slowly takes his hand off Griffin's.

"Can I touch it?" he asks.

Griffin laughs, different than before, as if to say _of course, of course_ you'd _want to touch it_.

"Sure," is what he says out loud.

David starts at the bottom, the blunt, low end on his front, under his ribs. It stops where his stomach dips in, torso no longer protected by bone, and he runs his thumb over the lower border of it.

Griffin was right, it's _bad_. Even in the dim, nearly-nonexistent light, he can see the ridges where scars healed over each other and had to adapt to newer wounds. It's not pretty and smooth like the one on his neck, a uniform texture and color; he imagines this one would look ghastly in the right lighting, or _any_ lighting, and he understands why Griffin didn't want him to see for so long. Definitely understands why he chose a night this dark to show him at all.

"It's big," is all he can manage of that, and Griffin laughs and sniffles again.

"Yeah, it is."

David keeps running his fingers up, his other hand coming up to touch it as well. The _distance_ between his hands when each is at an opposite end of it feels wrong, like there shouldn't be anything but a hollow wound between that much space.

He runs his other hand down from the top of it, follows the curve over his ribs, and Griffin shivers.

"Sorry," David says quickly. "Do you feel that?"

His shirt dips as he lets go for a moment to wipe his eyes.

"Not as much as I should," he admits. "It's kinda numb, like... Like when you get a cavity filled. You can feel the stuff around it being touched and you have kind of an idea of how it'd feel."

David nods. He remembers that feeling, the weird, dead numbness that came after an anesthetic shot.

He keeps running his fingers over the widest space of it, what must be four or five inches down his side that are nothing but too-soft, thick skin.

“It’s _big_ ,” he says again.

He settles his other hand on Griffin’s waist.

He means to lean in to try to get a better look at it in the dark, but instead, he… Kisses it. Right on the front ridge, where his lips mostly hit Griffin’s ribs, and he feels the embarrassment hit from acting on the impulse at the same time Griffin sucks in a breath.

They’ve certainly done stuff that’s probably a little outside of platonic, like when David kissed him in Tokyo because he was in awe that Griffin could jump cars or the time they fell asleep all over each other on the couch in Griffin’s cave, but this isn’t an adrenaline high or a Chinese food coma.

He pulls away.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. All this trust he’s built up, and then an impulse might have ruined it. “I shouldn't have -- I don't know why I did that.”

“It’s fine,” Griffin whispers. 

David doesn’t say anything else yet. He doesn’t know the right words yet.

Finally, he whispers back “It isn’t bad.”

Griffin laughs. He still doesn’t believe him.

“I mean it,” he says, and kisses his ribs again. He makes sure he mostly kisses scar tissue, and then kisses again, in the middle of the widest part of it, for good measure. “I _mean_ it.”

“Shut up,” Griffin sighs, but it’s good-natured. Even if he isn't able to believe David likes the scar, he knows now that it’s not going to change what David thinks of him, at least.

“You sure?” David asks, and kisses another thick section of scar tissue. “I could go on.”

“I'm sure.”

Griffin bends, pulls David’s face up, and kisses him. Not out of adrenaline, or with any excuses behind it -- just _kisses_ him in the dark of their room.

It feels familiar -- not in the literal sense that their mouths have touched before, necessarily, but in the ease that it comes to them. It doesn't feel like the first time they've kissed on purpose, it feels like the _thousandth_.

David stops first, pulling back enough to speak.

“We should go somewhere nice tomorrow.”

Griffin smiles.

“What, like a date?”

“Yeah,” David nods, “exactly. Like a date.”

Griffin pretends to think for a moment, even though he’s still softly, sweetly cradling David’s face in his hands. 

“Alright,” he finally agrees. “Date tomorrow.”

He squishes David’s face a bit in his hands and pecks him on the lips again, trying to distract from how maybe-serious things just got.

“Anywhere but Prague.”

**Author's Note:**

> if the format is weird its because Google docs doesn't like pasting my double spaces and I had to manually redo them on ao3, so let me know if there's something up lmao
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr!](https://www.sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com)


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